


i just wanna slow dance with you

by aisimetra



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisimetra/pseuds/aisimetra
Summary: Keith doesn’t like parties, but he really likes Lance.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	i just wanna slow dance with you

**Author's Note:**

> once again this is for ma boy vyran!!! happy bdaay!!!

It’s late and the air curling out of his mouth looks like mist when he sighs. There’s a strong bass in the background, coming from the club behind him, shaking the ground beneath his feet with the same power earthquakes have. He thinks that even if there were an actual earthquake shattering the earth, no one inside the club would notice. 

“Of course you’d be outside, all alone,” his chest constricts weirdly as be hears Lance’s voice, his favorite voice in the whole universe. 

“I needed some air.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Why did you come out?”

When Lance speaks again, he’s a step closer, the puffy shoulders of his jacket almost brushing against Keith’s and there is a grin in his speech. “There’s this idiot, he’s like, dumb enough to only bring his leather jacket when the weather is freezing, you know?” he clicks his tongue and Keith can see him from his peripheral vision, shifting his annoyingly pretty face so he can look at him. “I brought him a drink!” 

He wishes he could tell Lance that he doesn’t need the drink, that his words already made his ribcage melt inside of him and, out of nowhere, his leather jacket feels like it’s on fire. He hates how much he loves Lance. He hates how much Lance loves everyone else, but him. 

With an eyebrow raised, Keith turns his face towards Lance’s, being met with that smile of his, the smile that makes every bone inside his body come crashing down until he’s nothing but melted skin against the concrete. It’s always like this with Lance—every smile, every wink, every brush of their skins, every look shared—he always sets Keith ablaze. At times like this he wishes he could comprehend other people as well as Lance can, he would give up on a few organs—not cells or atoms or any sort of particle, whole organs—to have the power of reading facial expression and of knowing the language of the body. 

“I don’t drink.” Keith complains, eyeing the paper cup filled with scarlet liquid that’s steaming in Lance’s hand. 

“I know. But it’s just mulled wine, dude. You’d need to drink a whole barrel to even get tipsy!” He says, voice boisterous in Keith’s ears, smile wider than his face can hold. How could he ever refuse him? 

With a sigh, Keith reaches for the drink, making sure to keep his calm face on when his cold skin brushes against Lance’s warm fingers. There’s a boulder in his chest where his heart used to be, it’s weighing down on his lungs and if he were any good at displaying his own emotions his expression would be that of an anguished man. In a way, however, he’s glad his pain isn’t visible, because if it were it would distract Lance from smiling proudly as Keith takes a sip. 

“Not bad,” a mumble slips past his lips as the sweet liquid makes its way down his throat, warming him up from the inside. He doesn’t mind the taste of the beverage, for once, so he takes another small sip before stopping himself and giving the cup back to Lance. 

“Told you! Can’t believe you drank this much before giving it back, must’ve liked it a whole lot!” his voice was doing that thing that Keith learned to read as an invitation to banter, which is exactly the reason why he didn’t respond. “Oh, come on, play my game at least once!” Lance whines and Keith smiles, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re right, I liked it, you made a good drink choice this one particular time.” he says, making sure to sound honest, because he is and he doesn’t want Lance to think he isn’t.

Sometimes, he doesn’t have to try hard to make Lance see his feelings and true intentions. He can’t recall how, but Lance has learned most of the language Keith speaks in between his silences, has learned how to make sense of the smallest details, decoding codes Keith himself didn’t know existed. Maybe Lance is so bad at reading textbooks because he’s so good at reading people. You can’t have it all, but Keith would trade all his smarts in order to understand the look Lance offered him in return to his words. 

“Did you just imply that I sometimes make good choices? Man, maybe I was wrong, maybe you need a sip of this thing to get you tipsy...” Lance says, starting to laugh as soon as Keith pushes him in a playful manner, no bite behind it, just the need of that brief connection behind it. 

It happened so fast, he’s not really sure how it actually started or what happened in the middle of it all; it just did and now they’re here. They started as some sort of enemies, he thinks, although he’s never considered Lance less than his friend, even if he never said it out loud. 

The memories come in pieces—two boys, of probably eleven or twelve, with their eyes trained on the bright screen of a huge game machine in the mall’s arcade; Lance’s neon lit face as his ship flies further than Keith’s on the screen and he wins; a fourteen birthday cake that he cleans off of Lance’s cheek before they smile at each other; a Wonder Woman band aid across his knee and Lance’s lips kissing his own fingers before said fingers press against the band aid in a ‘healing kiss’; sixteen year old Lance making a show out of his new wrist watch for Keith whose cheeks hurt as he smiles, watching him in silence; two seventeen year old boys racing towards a swimming pool; eighteen year old Lance throwing his arm around Keith’s shoulder and his lilac scented perfume surrounding him for the rest of the day. 

And now, nineteen year old Lance is smiling at Keith as a street lamp illuminates his skin and he is ethereal even under that unforgiving light. Keith knows he’s in love, but how could he not be when Lance is, well, Lance? And he’s always been Lance, always so warm, sculpted out of honey, filled up with liquid sunshines, so incredibly easy to love. He knows Lance would never love him, he knows he’s not what Lance deserves, and yet his heart can’t seem to comprehend all the pleas, choosing to shape-shift into boulders or flames instead of just beating in his chest cavity as a normal heart. 

“What if shooting stars are actually just the remains of galactic wars?” Lance asks, voice little, head bent so he can seize the sky with his cautious eyes “What if there are wars up there, in the sky? Wouldn’t it be so dumb to fear the maths exam on Monday if that were true?” He licks his lips before speaking again, quieter, voice blending with the bass of the party “Wouldn’t it be stupid to even exist down here while all that happens up there?” 

“I think, if you could be the pilot in that old arcade game spaceship, you would.” Keith says, quiet, as if he doesn’t want Lance to hear him, but he does. He gets it, the wish to make the unknown known, to see what’s past the limiting blue of our sky.

“To be honest, yeah!” Lance jumps up, the excitement surging through his veins visible all over his face. “I know you would, too!” he points accusingly at Keith, but he’s smiling nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I would,” his voice trails off as he looks up at the sky one more time. *“We could pilot a spaceship together,”* he starts in his head, never out loud. 

The silence that engulfs them next is more than comfortable, it’s like their atoms are having a silent conversation as their eyes lock onto the sky. He wonders if they’re thinking the same thoughts, but then he realizes that the images and words plaguing his brain point to a different kind of relationship; one that they don’t have. He dreams of reaching out, linking his pinkie to Lance’s, subtly asking for more, for a whole hand to hold—and Lance answers affirmatively. In reality, however, Lance is probably playing the arcade game in his head, threading between the stars the same way Keith would like to thread his fingers through Lance’s hair. 

“I love this song!” Lance says seemingly out of nowhere, but when Keith pays some attention he can feel the change of rhythm in the bass of the club. He can’t tell what song it is, but Lance can, already swaying to the melody. “Dance with me?” He asks before rapidly placing the wine cup on the concrete. 

“What?” Fuck that boulder that replaced his heart, there was an entire mountain shattering his ribs from inside out, puncturing his lungs with his broken bones, reducing him to nothing but a blushing, breathless mess. 

“If we move around, even when we sway,” Lance said, draping his arms around Keith’s shoulders, making him reflexively place his palms on Lance’s hips “you’ll get warmer, you know? Moving helps a lot.” he added, voice lower, eyes glued to Keith’s. 

Could an entire nightclub fit inside a chest cavity? The bass no longer felt like it came from the party, it felt like it came from inside of him, making his heart vibrate in its hinges, trembling violently as Lance started moving slowly, to the rhythm. There was this thing about Lance and dancing, he always seemed to know how to move, it looked like he did more than fit to the rhythm, it looked like he somehow bent the rhythm to make it fit his moves. Truly, everything Lance did was ethereal and Keith was mesmerized. 

“Stop being so stiff, man, come on, dance with me, ” Lance tried again, but his voice was low and almost mumbly, like it was more of a plea than a simple request “Let this be a Christmas miracle.” he added, a lopsided smirk on his lips. 

“It’s the 14th of December, there are still ten days left?” Keith coughed out a laugh to which Lance rolled his eyes, smirk still in place as Keith finally gave in, following the gentle sway of Lance’s body. 

The song seemed too long, Keith could feel his palms warming up on Lance’s hips, almost sweating. However, there was this strangling warmth inside of him, some sort of comfort he wasn’t ready to feel. Or maybe, he didn’t allow himself to be ready to feel it. 

He loved Lance, he really did, but only the thought of trying to do something felt like rocks weighing on his skull, only the brief idea of talking to Lance about it sewed his tongue to his teeth and gums. He couldn’t, it would be too stupid, too reckless. He was reckless only when he had to. 

“Keith,” Lance says and when Keith looks at him his eyes are met with one of Lance’s very few carefully forged expressions. There’s a pause, a deep breath and Keith realizes the song is long ended, yet they’re still swaying. “What would happen if I were to kiss you right now?” Lance breathes out, so silently, so out of character. 

“I would kiss you back.” Keith answers faster than a heartbeat, maybe a bit too quick, but fuck it. He’s never even allowed himself to dream of such words coming out from between Lance’s lips. He’s never dared to imagine a reality in which something like this would happen.

He expects a cocky grin, a smirk, something to portray Lance’s usual flirty manner, but there’s none. Lance looks serious, focused, as his palms caress Keith’s cheeks featherly. He’s tender in his movements but the way his eyes have chained themselves to Keith’s lips makes something inside his heart move. 

It takes Lance way too long to kiss him, but he waits patiently, breathlessly. When their lips meet everything else ceases to exist. There’s only him and Lance, only their lips, only this kiss. He can’t do anything but feel the kiss with the entirety of his soul. He can’t hear his thoughts, his breath or heartbeat, the bass of the club, the people around, the cars passing by; the frenzy is gone. It’s just them. And it’s the most at home he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Lance is pressing the tips of his lukewarm fingers in his jaw as his thumb runs over his cheek soothingly. He tastes like mulled wine and his mouth is just as warm as Keith feels his stomach lining being. There’s no air left in his lungs but he grips Lance’s hips a little harder and keeps kissing him because he’d die before he lets this reality dissipate. And, when Lance finally pulls away to gasp for air, Keith follows his lips until he can’t reach anymore. 

“You really kissed back, huh?” Lance mumbles, the ghost of a smile lingering on his kiss stained lips. 

Keith hums in response, leaning his forehead against Lance’s, eyes closed, his mouth still buzzing with the electricity of the kiss. Lance’s hands are still in his hair and on his face, they’re still touching, still connected to one another. He wishes they could stay like this until the party is over, until the sun is shining over them again, until he’s convinced that he’s not dreaming of this.

“Can we date now?” Keith asks, his voice a little above a rumble of whispers, too scared to shatter the bubble of silence in which they’re sheltered. He knows it sounds a bit too defeated, like he’s begging, out of breath and hope; he doesn’t care. He wants to kiss Lance more, again and again, for the rest of the night, for the remaining of today and tomorrow and the day after. 

“Hey, not fair, I was just thinking of a cheesy way of asking that!” Lance complains and Keith smiles before closing his eyes and leaning in, capturing Lance’s lips in another kiss.


End file.
